Dying To Be Written

Bayfest

Bayfest officially kicked off at about 7:30 p.m. last night.

There I am, on my way to look for a spot to play.
I succeeded in finding one on Royal Street which was far enough away from any of the half dozen stages which were set up all over the downtown area, so that it was relatively quiet, especially compared to New Orleans.
Mobile felt like a peaceful little town, in fact, after NOLA. Even the beggars weren't as "in your face."
I racked up $13.86 in about an hour, playing mostly Beatles songs, then went to spend -excuse me, invest- $4.33 of it in a half pint of whiskey, which I then walked with and sipped upon down Royal Street towards one of the stages.

"Dances With Corrie" Not To Be

It was the stage by the parking lot where last year a man was sitting with a gallon of vodka, passing it around to his new "friends," which included, but were not limited to; myself, Corrie and Corrie's boyfriend, who soon left to find the Rock-n-Roll stage, leaving Corrie and I to dance in the parking lot to the sounds of Clay Walker. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't hoping to see Corrie again.
On this particular night, though, there was no man with vodka, no Corrie, and the Country band on the stage had just finished their set. There would be a wait before the next band played so I walked and sipped on; past the cops on every corner, and back to the spot on Royal Street, where I made a few more dollars.
Then, at 10:30 p.m., I started to head towards the "Pepsi" stage, where a band called Korn was slated to perform. I had always wanted to hear the band Korn, which spells it in mixed case characters, like KorN, or something (I think they reverse the "K" and possibly the "N," too).
I got about half way to the Pepsi stage, finished my whiskey and said to myself: "You know, you can always check out a CD from the library if you want to hear KorN so badly. How much money can you make on the sidewalk while KorN is playing? Well, that amount would be like what you would be paying to see KorN..."

"You know, you're right, self...I'm going to play some more"
And play, I did.
After the last of the bands finished around 11:30 p.m., and the streets flooded with freshly released, highly charged KorN fans and their ilk, I moved to the acoustically superior spot, (which I now just realise that I forgot to photograph; maybe tomorrow.)
I made a total of about 30 bucks for the night. This is not an impressive amount unless you factor in the fact that it took all of about 30 people to supply it. It was a one dollar tip type of night. I guess that is not just a New Orleans phenomenon, in this economy. 30 people appreciated my stuff, which bodes well for the near future anyways.
Someone came by and smoked some "mojo" with me, and after that, I remember playing "Dear Prudence," and changing the words, and I remember people approaching from every direction (like sharks) and throwing their dollars in my case. At one point, I spaced out and thought I was in New Orleans. Momentarily horrified, I snatched a handful of the ones out of my case and stuffed them in a pocket, before realising that I was in the relative safety of Mobile, at my acoustically superior spot, and that I had over reacted. Such was my level of concentration. The mojo contributed...
I slept at the railroad track spot, where I had stashed my sleeping bag, which was still there.
I chose that spot so that I wouldn't have to be "up and out" by 7 a.m., even though I had stashed my morning energy drink (a "Full Throttle") at the Christ Episcopal spot, a tactical error, but one that I had to live with.
Sleeping until 9 a.m. this morning, I then walked over to get my energy drink, and then went off to Save-A-Lot.
I want very much to cook some fish on a fire today, so I have already gotten some frozen Tilapia. It is thawing in my backpack right now. I will buy a tin foil type roasting pan for $1.50, or rig up a grate, using coat hangers as a frame and a 99 cent roll of tin foil. Either way, I'm determined to cook fish and to do it for under two bucks!
Tales of The Macabre

Another car strikes the same spot? Was it the same driver?

Last night, allegedly, another car struck the wall of the Church Street Graveyard in the same spot that had already been struck, and then patched using hundred year old bricks (to match the texture of the original wall. How well they matched it is left to you to determine by looking at the photo which I took this morning.)
You will remember, faithful reader, from yesterday's post that Richard was found dead upon the tomb where he slept in the same cemetery.


Is There A Novel Here?

 Was the wall actually struck by a car (I don't see any skid marks nor tire tracks) or is Richard's up to his old tricks?
This is just the kind of s**t that Richard would pull. It has "Richard" written all over it!
When his body was found, he had with him a 4-pack of Steel Reserve Lager, and was in the middle of drinking the second one, when he was snatched from this earth.
There are theories being bandied about, by those who knew him, that the restless spirit of Richard has come back to roam the earth in search of his last two cans of Steel Reserve...
Could he have, upon finding his beer gone off of his tomb, smashed the wall in a tantrum??
We don't know...